


as long as the wolves are out

by hellsgnaw



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-05-30 16:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15100673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellsgnaw/pseuds/hellsgnaw
Summary: Bruises peek from beneath Ren’s sleeves. He tugs them down and twists his hands together until his skin strains and blood stops flowing, staring until his eyes start to sting and his clenched jaw aches but he won’t blink, won’t stop biting down and trying to be the one to break his own bones.The ones to blame are the men that laid hands upon him. Shido is to blame for orchestrating it. Akechi is to blame. Not his friends. He knows that. He knows, but everyone looks like an enemy through blackened eyes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> deals with ren coping with physical assault. take care if that bothers you

Ann says, “You must be fine if you’re joking around like that.”

Yusuke says, “Surely he was acting quite cocky by himself in that quiet chamber.”

And Ren says really nothing at all.

What he does is fidget with his sleeves, tugging them down as far as they’ll go. Picks some cat hair off his uniform, and it’s sort of funny how it stuck to him all throughout the arrest and the rematerialization into the real world and the interrogation. Sort of funny, sort of annoying.

Yusuke says, “It’s a shame I didn’t have the opportunity to see that for myself.”

And Ren laughs. His rib throbs.

“I couldn’t see it either,” he says, brushing off his sleeve.

The fur really is everywhere. Sure, Morgana’s complex about being treated like a pet is fair enough, but if he would just let Ren brush him now and then, this wouldn’t be a problem.

Niijima’s asking him something.

“Don’t remember,” Ren says. “Drugs.”

A weird vibe spreads through the room. He should have smiled. They didn’t catch the joke.

The buttons on his cuff came undone at some point. He does them back up, then clasps his hands in his lap and waits for everyone to finish talking. They’ve been talking for so long his back is getting stiff. For over a day now, he’s been sitting on his ass, talking, listening to people talk, refusing to talk.

It’s nice, though, to hear their voices again. And to have Yusuke standing beside him, leaning against the back of the booth. It’s nice, too, when Sojiro places a cup of coffee before him. The ceramic scalds the tear in his lip, but the coffee fills his stomach and chases away the November chill.

Ryuji nudges Ren’s arm until he shuffles over and sits beside him. Yusuke pushes away and joins Ann at the bar.

They’re talking about Shido now. When they ask where Shido’s palace could be, Ren thinks of Yoshida, names the Diet Building, and doesn’t have it in him to be surprised like they are because all men in power are the same in the end, even ‘the Good Ones.’ There’s something inherently fucked up about wanting power. About thinking you deserve it.

Ren asks, “What about Akechi?”

In a convenient sign of growth, it’s Ryuji that shuts him down: “Just gotta hit the head.”

Petty grudges do no one any good. Sure, Akechi was the one to pull the trigger, but someone else is pulling the strings. The problem is bigger than stupid rivalries and tentative friendships. Just like Ren will never find the man that first called for his arrest and get direct justice like all his friends, he has to settle. Keep his eyes on the big picture.

“Ren?”

He looks up. Everyone else is putting on their coats, picking up their bags. Ann flips her hair out of her varsity jacket.

“Did you hear me?”

“Yeah, of course. Diet Building tomorrow.” Ren covers his yawning mouth. “I’ll be there.”

Ann stares at him, tilting her head and knitting her brow, and Ren chews the inside of his cheek. Yusuke stares, too. Ryuji is bickering with Futaba and Sojiro is talking to Niijima but Makoto’s watching, Haru’s watching while she scratches behind Morgana’s ears and he’s watching too, everyone is watching, everyone is looking for something he can’t give them.

“I’m exhausted,” Ren says, and who can argue? “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

That look stays on Ann’s face. Ren turns from it and gives his farewells with a simple wave over his shoulder. A few of them return it, their murmurs following him into the dark.

The stairs creak the way they always do. Third from the bottom, second from the top, and he leaves the light off. Whatever Kawakami has to say about dust, he always keeps the attic neat; there’s nothing to trip over. He knows the room like the back of his hand. Considering the bruises from the handcuffs, maybe even better.

He takes off his glasses. Peels off his shoes and lines them up neatly by the chair leg. One by one, he undoes his jacket buttons, then slides it from his shoulders and rests it over the back of the couch. Slips off his suspenders, unclips them from his pants, lays them across the seat. It’s cold without his jacket. There’s voices downstairs. Not everyone has left yet. He needs to hurry and get changed so he can bury himself under his warm blanket, it’s so cold.

He untucks his shirt. Stares at a sack of coffee beans on the shelf.

It’s going to hurt. When he lifts his arms, it’s going to hurt, but he can’t sleep in his uniform so he closes his eyes and pulls his shirt over his head and his rib splinters and tears into his lung and he can’t breathe it hurts hurtshurtshurtshurtshurtshurtshurtshurtshurtshurts–

“Ren?”

Yusuke’s voice.

Yusuke’s voice and Ren lowers his arm, eyes following the marks the handcuffs left, the injection site on his inner arm, a blotchy discolouration spread across his side. He licks his split lip, blinks his bruised eye. All of it, raw discoloured ugly broken weak, torn tissue paper skin,

Footsteps on the stairs.

“I’m changing,” Ren calls. “Gimme a sec.”

More footsteps. A shadow crawls up the stairwell wall by inches, oblong and grotesque, and this goddamn attic doesn’t have a door.

“Wait,” Ren’s voice cracks and he hates it but the footsteps aren’t stopping, “I said _wait_ , I’m changing–”

“It’s only me,” Yusuke says. The shadow stops before the second stair squeaks but Ren watches closely for the slightest movement, swallowing past his racing heart. “Everyone else went home; you and I are the only ones here. May I come up?”

“Just – just give me a second.”

“Very well.”

Ren pulls on his pajama top. Unzips his pants, then pushes them down until he can wiggle out without bending over. Doing is easy. Doing turns his movements robotic and the pain into something he can compartmentalize and shove towards the back of his brain.

He clears his throat. “Morgana’s not with you?”

“No. I asked Boss permission to spend the night–”

“Oh?”

“Yes, to which Morgana said something rather crude about ‘third-wheeling’ and opted out.”

Shallow breaths leave Ren dizzy and nauseous, clutching the shelf for stability, but he closes his eyes and pulls himself back into his body, forces himself to be aware of his two feet on the floor, of every finger, of the hair tickling the bridge of his nose. He pulls his pants on. He straightens up.

“Third-wheeling, huh? You can come up now.”

The stair squeaks and Yusuke appears head and shoulders above the banisters.

“I apologize if I made you uncomfortable,” he says. He reaches up to turn on the light and Ren squints until his eyes adjust. “You nude is nothing I haven’t seen before; I assumed you wouldn’t mind.”

Ren laughs, again. Again, his rib throbs.

“Aw, don’t tease me, I’m shy.”

Yusuke tilts his head. Ren turns away.

“Here, I have pajamas you can borrow.”

With the light on, he finds a second pair in record time, then heads for the bed while Yusuke changes. It isn’t big enough for two but the futon is all the way across the room and more than anything he just wants to sleep. As long as Yusuke doesn’t punch him in the side, it’s not really a big deal.

Ren plays with his bangs, fingers light over the cut on his brow. The light flicks off and he holds the blanket back, letting in cold air until Yusuke fills the space.

“Perhaps I should sleep on the futon,” he says. “One wrong move and I’ll tumble to the floor.”

“Better stay close, then.”

Yusuke smiles. “Of course.”

They move by inches. As if such a bony arm is any good for it, Yusuke pillows Ren’s head. Under the blanket, their hands find each other. Ren laces their fingers together. Yusuke’s leg hooks over his. Inch by inch and it’s all familiar.

The way Yusuke just keeps _staring_ is, too. Ever the artist, taking in the affect others can have on the human body. The details of what a fist can do to the thin skin around an eye, of what bleeding beneath the surface looks like up close. Rib too sore to lay on his side, Ren only has the ceiling and the plastic stars from their trip to the planetarium, when the darkness provided the perfect cover for their first kiss.

Yusuke slides his hand out of Ren’s grip and brushes the hair out of his eyes, letting his hand trail down to stroke his cheek. “What an ugly thing they did to you.”

Ren chews his cheek and stops an eyeroll halfway.

“Hey, what did you say when you asked to stay over?”

“Only that I wished to spend the night.”

“That’s it?”

“Boss seemed rather understanding and asked no questions.”

“Hmm. Understanding of…?”

“Most likely that I want to be with you after being kept apart while fearing for your life. Perhaps that, in the face of all that awaits us, we should take the moments of respite while we can.”

A breath of laughter slips out no matter how Ren tries to stop it. “Wow. Good thing he didn’t ask.”

Yusuke smiles, sliding his thumb along Ren’s bottom lip.

Now, like at the planetarium, like always, his hand is gentle. Featherlight. Crawling. Crawling like spider legs and Ren closes his eyes. Monsters grow ten times their size in the dark but he keeps his eyes shut because monsters aren’t real, monsters don’t lift your chin so kindly; monsters grab your jaw when the drugs they forced into your blood make your head droop and your words slur.

The arm cradling Ren’s head bends at the elbow and drags him in. Holds him there. A mouth touches his, the side that isn’t torn raw, and sucks the air from his lungs.

“I love you,” he hears from far, and he grabs Yusuke’s shirt and drags it closer, parting his lips with the return and a point to prove. Thirdwheeling, Morgana had said, because this is what happens when lovers are reunited.

Yusuke pulls away, a frown creasing his brow.

“Ren, what’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing.”

“You’re shaking.”

He is. He lets out the tension in his shoulders with a slow exhale.

“I’m fine,” Ren says. Yusuke keeps staring, so he laughs and takes his hand again. “Just – be careful when you lean on me. I mean, I’m pretty sure my rib is cracked, so be gent–”

Yusuke backs off, eyes wide. “ _What_?”

“It’s fine, I’m gonna go see Takemi tomorrow while you’re all at school.”

Inch by inch and degree by degree, their body heat builds and Ren’s skin grows clammy. With Yusuke looming over him, arm behind his head, he’s trapped.

He should have gotten the futon out after all.

In the dark Yusuke’s grey eyes are pitch black and all-consuming. They move from Ren’s discolored eye to his split lip and back again. Rather than demurely turn his head, Ren holds his gaze like a challenge.

He grins. “Ugly, isn’t it?”

“No, that isn’t what I – I only meant as a mark of – the ugliness is in those that did this to you, Ren, never you.” Yusuke’s voice resonates against the dead of night. Bass crawls across the back of Ren’s skull, down his spine, inch by inch by inch, and he suppresses a shudder. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Man, you guys were talking so much I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Plus, I mean…” Ren gestures to his face. “Didn’t think I’d have to.”

“There is a large difference between a black eye and a cracked rib.”

“Hmm… is there though?” Ren touches Yusuke’s hand, playing with his fingers. “Either way, it happened. But I guess black eyes look cool. This just makes it hard to breath, and there’s nothing cool about that.”

Yusuke shakes his head. “What are you talking about?”

“Your little comment downstairs? You wanted me to put on a show for you.”

Yusuke sits up, sliding his arm out from under Ren’s head and his hand from his grip. The blanket falls back and cold air flows between them.

“That is _not_ what I meant,” he snaps. “Do you truly think I would take any pleasure in seeing you hurt? I wanted only to witness your moment of triumph.”

Ren shrugs and turns his attention out the window.

“Yeah, well. This is what it looks like.”

He cracks his knuckles one by one.

“Besides, you were right,” he says, “I did laugh. I won. Nothing they did mattered, I won. I went into this knowing the risks, so just… don’t start walking on eggshells like I’m gonna break down or something. I’m fine.”

A pause, then Yusuke sighs. He swings his legs over the side of the bed, turning his back to Ren.

The stars outside aren’t visible. They never are in the city. Back home, there were always stars and when Ren used to stay out late with friends – he never realized how much he used to look up at the stars until he couldn’t anymore.

“The… entire time we were apart,” Yusuke starts slowly, quietly, “I had to cling to the belief that you would make it out. I suppose I was so happy to have you safe, joking the way you always do, that I became selfishly blind. Sometimes my admiration for you gets in the way of seeing things as they are. Quite the trend in my life, it seems.”

Ren twists his index to the side until the knuckle pops. Then his middle finger. His ring finger.

“What’s that supposed to mean? ‘The way things are.’”

“Only that your act is growing stale.”

No stars shine outside the window but the ones Yusuke gave him glow among the rafters, so faint they’re more visible when Ren stares into the space between.

“I apologize for my comment before,” Yusuke continues. “It was insensitive.”

“Well, thanks I guess, but I just said–”

“I know what you said. I said many things as well, when we first met.”

“Not really the same thing.”

“Perhaps.”

Ren’s broken body won’t move the way he wants; he can’t roll over and make a big show of how much he doesn’t care. All he can do is stare at the ceiling and pretend he can’t feel eyes on him.

“I think I will sleep on the futon after all,” Yusuke says, getting to his feet.

Ren sits up, clutching his side at the jolt of pain. “ _Ah – fuck_. What, are you mad?”

“No. You’re injured; I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

Every nerve raw and pulled tight, Ren laughs through grit teeth.

“Then you’re about a day too late.”

The dark isn’t enough to hide the look that gets him. Part of him revels in it. This is drowning and dragging your savior’s offered hand with you because then you’re not only one that goes down. This is the scorpion and the frog because maybe Ren was just a spiteful person all along.

Yusuke turns to fully face him, arms delicately crossed like always, but eyes wild.

“Is that what this is about? You blame us.”

Gradually the pain begins to recede and Ren lets out a shaky breath.

“You’d have to do something wrong for me to blame you. Unanimous decisions, right?”

“Yes, unanimous, and we _all_ did what we could. What happened to you was vile but between that and death, what choice did we have?”

“I know.”

“If there was any other way–”

“I _know_!”

It echoes off the bare walls and Ren snaps his mouth shut, renewed pain sparking across his side.

“Then… what? Whatever name you would put to it, you clearly harbour resentment, yet you won’t talk to me, you persist with these idiotic jokes and snide remarks.”

“Why’s that a problem now? You only want me all sad when it suits you?”

“That isn’t what I–!”

Yusuke huffs and turns on his heel, wearing his heart so beautifully on his sleeve. Ever calm and composed, Ren breathes the pain out and sits crosslegged, lacing his fingers together. For a moment it looks like Yusuke’s going to storm down the stairs and out of Leblanc; he only gets halfway before turning back.

“You’re right,” Yusuke says, “our situations are not the same. Mine was routine, while yours was a singular, abhorrent violation. And – and I don’t know what I should do, Ren, I have already done irreparable damage. Tell me to leave or let me in but enough of – whatever this is.”

Bruises peek from beneath Ren’s sleeves. He tugs them down and twists his hands together until his skin strains and blood stops flowing, staring until his eyes start to sting and his clenched jaw aches but he won’t blink, won’t stop biting down and trying to be the one to break his own bones.

The ones to blame are the men that laid hands upon him. Shido is to blame for orchestrating it. Akechi is to blame. Not his friends. He knows that. He knows, but everyone looks like an enemy through blackened eyes.

Yusuke sighs and shifts his weight to one leg.

“I know anger, Ren. When I was… roughly thirteen, I started to wake up, and I resented everyone around me for being unable to see the truth. Other kids at school, teachers, the media that praised him. I had to conclude there was nothing to see.

“I don’t want to be that person for you and I’m sorry that I nearly was, but I cannot help unless you let me.”

“Yeah? Then don’t tell anyone,” Ren mutters. “About my rib, they don’t need to know.”

“And how long do you think you can hide a broken bone?”

“The last thing I need is them treating me like a liability.” Ren tears his hands apart and rubs his jaw. “Especially not when we go after the pigs that did this.”

A drunk from outside the bar next door yells something incomprehensible and Ren glances over his shoulder, shaken out of his own little world. All at once, sound floods in – ambient traffic and a fire truck in the distance – until Yusuke’s voice brings him back.

“You intend to change their hearts?”

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I?”

Floorboards squeak and Yusuke makes his way back to the bed to take a seat on the edge. The streetlight illuminates his back, shining gently on his hair, and Ren leans forward, resting his chin on his hand.

“Am I wrong? We’ve punished lesser crimes.”

Bargoers jeer at the drunk, their laughter as loud on a Monday night as it always is on Fridays. Argument upon argument builds on Ren’s tongue, waiting only for a refusal; ever since the first blow, he knew what needs to be done. What never occurred to him is that anyone would disagree.

“You’re not wrong.” Yusuke glances over his shoulder, only one eye visible through his bangs. “Men like them deserve no less.”

Ren stares, waiting for the _but_. Yusuke only stares back.

“Exactly,” Ren mutters. He lays back down and drapes his arm over his eyes. Obviously Yusuke would agree; it’s the right thing to do. It’s _what_ they do. “So don’t tell anyone about my rib.”

“I said I have no qualms about going after corrupt men; I said nothing about standing by and watching you injure yourself.”

“C’mon, don’t tell me the plan was to throw me to the wolves but we didn’t have anything for when I get mauled. Takemi will have something, plus I’ve got my Personas – which you _need_. We’re going after Shido either way. Or do I just sit at home while you guys take care of it?”

If Ren hadn’t been straining his ear for the slightest resistance, he wouldn’t have heard the sigh Yusuke lets slip.

Under the blanket, his hand works its way up his shirt and to his side, fingers so light they would have tickled if they weren’t his own. It feels normal. There’s no bone jutting out wrong, just the high-pitched twinge of a bruise. But he takes a slow, deep breath, ribs moving to accommodate his lungs, and the pain flares again. He does it a second time, squeezing his eyes shut, and focuses on the sensation. A red tangle of static in a black void.

The mattress moves and he hears his name spoken so gently he wants to tear it to shreds. No hand pulls his arm away from his eyes. It’s up to him to lower it.

Yusuke gazes down at him, brow creased and mouth pulled tight. He reaches for Ren’s face but pauses.

“May I?”

Ren nods and Yusuke brushes the hair off his forehead.

“Your hands are always so cold,” Ren whines.

“I keep thinking about Nakanohara and the others.”

“Oh. Romantic.”

Yusuke scoffs. “You bounce back rather quickly.”

“It’s part of my charm.”

“Hmm…”

Fingers slide down Ren’s cheek but this time he keeps his gaze firmly on Yusuke’s. Challenging him, challenging himself, challenging the ghosts with needles in his peripheral. Beneath the blanket, he moves his unbound hand. The scent of coffee fills every breath, coming from the bags of beans he knows are just over by the stairwell. He knows this room better than the back of his hand. He knows the hand stroking his cheek.

“Our situations aren’t the same,” Yusuke says, “but I keep thinking about what I can do for you, and what I may have wanted after – during particularly rough nights. And that’s when my thoughts turn to Madarame’s other students.”

The plastic stars above, the sounds of the alleyway outside, and Ren leans into Yusuke’s cold, dry hand. Against the heat building beneath the blanket, it’s a little refreshing. A little grounding.

“Ultimately, they were frightened children dealing with the same thing I was,” Yusuke’s fingers trail along Ren’s jaw, to his ear, “or not dealing, as the case may be. Though there were never any special words, I find myself remembering simply that they were with me. That until they saved themselves, I wasn’t alone.”

“Did you resent them when they did?”

“For a while, yes,” Yusuke murmurs. “Selfish, aren’t I?”

Ren shakes his head. From his ear down his neck, Yusuke’s fingers trace his collarbone. They stop over his heart and Ren curls his fingers around Yusuke’s wrist.

“Does that mean you’re with me?”

Under a flat and pressing palm, he wonders if heartbeat can be felt. In his certainty about what needs to be done, it’s slow and steady as ever. No anxiety, no doubt. He’s in control like he always is.

Yusuke lifts his chin and gazes down his nose. Hair blocks the light from the window, casting his face into shadow, until he lets out a single humorless laugh and tilts his head.

“Your light is becoming rather like flames,” he says with a wry smile. “We need to see the corrupt brought to justice before they can harm anyone else. And more than that, if indeed any blame does lie with me, I would see it put right. I’m with you, Ren.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. i don't know the correct metaverse lore and i refuse to learn  
> 2\. apparently you can't actually lie on your back with a broken rib? well this is my world and i say you can  
> 3\. thank u for reading & sorry for the wait. luv u

Ren’s first arrest stays with him in bits and pieces. In all the chaos, so much was lost to the dark, so much got trampled underfoot, and the fragments slice Ren’s fingers every time he tries to put them together. All he can do is bandage his wounds and learn to leave well enough alone.

Ignore the reflection in some of the larger pieces of some naive idiot who ran off halfcocked, wearing that stupid secondhand raglan his cousin gave him. The idiot who, minutes before, had nothing more important to think about than the way that girl from 1-A had sat the wrong way on the park bench and said, “We should hang out sometime,” smiling and tucking her hair behind her ear.

The blood looked black. So wrapped up in his own suffering, Ren didn’t think about how the cops recognized the man and cowed to his demands; he thought about his mom. While they dragged him to the car, fingers digging into his arms, he wondered if she made dinner. He was going to miss it. She was going to be ‘not angry, just disappointed’ and God, why was there so much blood? The cement was stained.

(He looked it up online while waiting for his trial: there’s so many blood vessels close to the surface that head injuries bleed a lot, even when they’re not serious. The flow probably stopped in the car, but did it ever make for a good show.)

All wounds itch as they heal. Getting shoved aside for the elevator, watching the TV over Akechi’s shoulder, listening to politicians campaigning, Ren scratches his hands against the insides of his pockets – until, eventually, he goes digging again and nicks himself fitting a couple pieces together.

“He’s why I got arrested,” he manages, watching Shido’s car disappear into traffic. Clenches his aching fists and spits, “It was him.”

The voice that’s been haunting him and the reputation that’s been plaguing him; the hunch he ignored because it was too storybook-perfect. Standing on the only ship in a sinking Japan, it all becomes so obvious. Nothing this year has been a coincidence. Akechi says _fate_ far too often for it to be natural.

Ren turns from the sea, points to Yusuke, Haru, and… he pauses. Adapts the strategy to accommodate a missing piece he got far too used to having.

“Skull,” he decides.

The plan, he tells them, is all heavy hitters in the vanguard while he supports them from a distance. Everyone else watches the rear, same as always.

“Be quick, be smart,” Ren tells them, Joker’s voice ringing out across the ship’s bow, “but hit hard. Finish fights before they start. Don’t give them the opportunity.”

Futaba’s turning her goggles on him, scratching her temple in a way that makes what she’s thinking all too obvious, so Ren leads the way in before she can say anything. He doesn’t look back.

A thought had occurred more than once, that maybe Ren’s injuries simply wouldn’t transfer over. That, in a world where strength of heart rules, where he can run a little faster, jump a little higher, maybe he would be whole again.

Climbing the stairs above a sea of people in masquerade dress, the fracture grinds with every step, every breath. It pulls apart when he summons Arsene; it strains as he goes around talking to the guests; it crumbles in on itself when he leans against the wall of the first safe room.

Yusuke partitions him from everyone else, hand against the wall over Ren’s head while the latter curses beneath his breath.

“Using only your Persona will quickly wear you down,” he whispers. “This is idiotic.”

Ren can’t respond through his clenched jaw.

“Joker?”

Futaba peeks around Yusuke’s side, hands clasped behind her back and hair cascading from her shoulders. Everyone else keeps talking amongst themselves, save for Yusuke, who steps back and crosses his arms.

“I, uh… wanted to ask you earlier but I wasn’t sure because, honestly, I didn’t think you were that stupid. Seeing you fight though, there’s no doubt about it, your readings are all weird. Are you… alright?”

From her spot at the table with Haru and Morgana, Makoto glances over.

“About as well as can be expected,” Ren says. Yusuke glares a hole in the carpet.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean? You’re obviously–”

“What’s going on?”

Makoto stands beside her now. Ren shakes his head, trying to throw off all the attention that followed her over.

“Not much,” he says conversationally. Futaba squints. “What’s up?”

Makoto’s eyes flick to Yusuke and back again. “Are you sure? Because I wanted to talk to you; I’m not sure what you’re doing is the best tactic. Rushing in like this. We don’t know what to expect with someone like Shido and–”

“We _do_ know he knows about the cognitive world. We need to finish this before he realizes something’s up. Your big plan wasn’t foolproof, there’s too many holes he can see thr–”

Futaba reaches for his side; Ren steps back so quickly he nearly trips over his heel scraping against the floor. She reaches. He knocks her hand away.

“ _Don’t_. What’re you–?”

“You’re hurt,” she says. “The cops, right?”

“Oh? You really are a genius,” Ren teases – friendly, it’s supposed to be friendly but it comes out wrapped in a sneer. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Ann and Ryuji watching now; in front of him, Futaba holds her ground.

“It’s his rib.”

“ _Fox._ ”

“His rib was broken during the interrogation,” Yusuke says, looking Ren dead in the eye.  

Ann pushes away from the wall, Ryuji opens his big mouth to yell and make a huge deal out of nothing, and Ren holds up his hands. “Cracked,” he amends before they can start, “barely.”

Haru puts her hand over her heart. “Goodness. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Well, you never asked,” Ren smiles. “Look, I already saw Takemi and she gave me painkillers, it’s taken care of. What would telling you guys change?”

“Dude, that’s not what she meant,” Ryuji says, “and you know it.”

“You didn’t think we’d _need_ to know?” Makoto jabs a thumb over her shoulder, towards the door where the Shadows wait on the other side. “Considering our lives are on the line, here.”

Morgana touches a paw to his chin. “Painkillers…? You mean that bottle on your shelf? I didn’t see you take any.”

Ren shrugs. “Yeah, you didn’t see. Why wouldn’t I take them?”

“…Because they drugged you during the interrogation,” Futaba quietly realizes.

“That’s not – what? I took them.” Ren shakes his head and scoffs. “Shocking as it may be, Mona doesn’t see my every move. Look, this is so stupid, can we just–”

Ren gestures towards the door. His hand drops limply to his side when no one backs down.

Silence falls heavy in the wake of their barrage. Half the time he can’t get them to shut up and now he can’t get them to start. Eyes like needles and every time he tries to brush them off they break and work themselves further under his skin. Every pin drop resounds around the room.

Makoto sighs.

“I still can’t believe they went so far,” she laments.

“Why,” Ren snaps, rallying at the excuse, “because they’re cops?”

Shock freezes her for a second but she recovers fast. “Yes, Joker, exactly. Because they’re cops.”

“Hey!” Ann steps forward once Ren opens his mouth. “Hey, uh – Joker, have you tried healing it? Like, with your Persona?”

Haru perks up. “Mona, you think that would work?”

“It’s possible… I don’t know the specifics of the relation between our bodies on each side, but the injuries we get over here are just as real as they would be on the other side, so it would make sense for the reverse to be true.”

“That’s what I figure! Can’t hurt to try, right?” Ann’s confidence builds with every step until she’s right in front of Ren. “You want me to, or…?”

“I’ll do it,” Ren insists, following with, “thank you, though.”

Everyone steps back when Ren puts his hand over his mask.

This thought had occurred to him, too. Everything is so much more simple on this side. The reason he never let himself pursue it is a lot more complicated.

Ishtar comes and goes, bringing with her a gentle warmth and leaving behind a breath of mint soothing the wounds on Ren’s face. Slowly, carefully, he touches his side and finds it tender, but tender only. The next breath he takes passes easily through his lungs and finally there is no pain in simply existing.

Ann leans forward and raises her eyebrows. One nod is enough to get her to smile.

“You had me worried for a second there.” She nudges his arm and lowers her voice. “You know, you didn’t have to hide this. Did you really think we expect you do be some flawless leader or something?”

Ren opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He shuts it, then tries again.

Whatever he’s about to say gets trampled beneath Ryuji’s boot; he bounds over and punches Ren’s other arm, grinning ear to ear. Obviously it worked, he says, and he can’t believe this wasn’t Ren’s plan right from the start. But then again, he _can_ be a pretty big idiot. Futaba shoves Ryuji into the table, scorning him for being so rough. Haru giggles behind her hand and Makoto sighs with a smile. At a tentative suggestion from her, everyone decides to pack it in for the day. To leave things on a good note.

Just like on the way in, everyone surrounds Ren on the way out. He’s sore and mentally drained, in no shape to get lectured about how he should have told him, they’re in this together, what was he thinking? so they escort him out like an entourage of bodyguards, except so loud that it brings shame to the concept.

Up ahead, Ann elbows Yusuke and whispers something in his ear. A couple steps later, he falls back to keep pace with Ren. Chin up, shoulders back, and face a mystery beneath his mask.

“I won’t apologize,” Yusuke says eventually.

“Wasn’t gonna ask you to.”

“Watching you behave so recklessly, endangering both yourself and everyone else… forgive me for saying so, but it was unfair to ask that of me.”

They reach the final staircase in the foyer and, with no Shadows to hide from and a cognitive crowd that loves entertainment, Ryuji slides down the banister.

“Neither of us are alone anymore,” Yusuke says, watching him help Haru to do the same. “Learn to lean on them, as I have. They won’t know what you don’t tell them; you must meet them halfway.”

Ryuji holds Haru’s hand as if helping a princess out of her carriage, Makoto catches her when stumbles after hitting the ground, and Ren scratches his side.

“It’s not like I lied or anything,” he says.

“Through omission you did. You told me not to tell them you were hurt.”

“But admitted it once they asked. Not my fault it took so long.”

He comes home and they’re relieved to see each other, so they joke and they laugh, and he gives them that. They catch Sojiro up to speed and there’s so much to unpack, so he gives them that. Makoto laments the justice system she grew up idolizing is full of corruption, so he gives her that. They find out the man after them is set up to become the next Prime Minister and the weight of the world sits on their shoulders, so he gives them that.

They didn’t say anything, so neither did he.

He didn’t say anything, so neither did they.

One hand on the railing, Yusuke stops just two steps down. “Is that really the game you’re playing?” Behind his mask, his eyes narrow. “How childish.”

Ren smiles and gives him that.

“Talk to them.” Yusuke leans in and keeps his voice quiet enough that no one else will hear. “Consider that–”

“What I’m considering,” Ren says slowly, carefully, “is why it had to go as far as a broken rib to matter.” He sighs and scratches the back of his head. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter, I guess; it’s healed either way.”

Yusuke tightens his grip on the railing. He offers nothing but silence and Ren takes, takes, takes because maybe he has nothing left to give.

“Hey! Everything okay?”

Everyone stands at the bottom of the stairs with Morgana foremost, fifty centimetres of authority with his paws on his hips. Ann pushes her mask back, frowning like someone who sees too much.

Without a backwards glance, Ren hurries down the rest of the stairs.

“Sorry,” he says, “let’s go.”

A salted breeze ruffles their hair as soon as they’re back on deck, stained in deceivingly warm tones from a perpetually setting sun. Silence carries them back to the real world, smothered then beneath Tokyo’s congestion and broken by goodbyes as they split into smaller groups. Eventually only Futaba, Ren, and Morgana are left, huddled in one corner of the train against the last dregs filing home from work.

Halfway to the station, Ren waits for Futaba to finish a fight in whatever game she’s hunched over playing, then nudges her with his elbow.

“I bet,” he says, after she lowers her headphones, “that if I asked you to find the detectives that handled my interrogation, you would know their names within an hour.”

Futaba smirks.

“What, just their names?” She leans closer, lowering her voice until it’s nearly lost beneath conversations of everyone around them. “You wanna go after them?”

“We can’t leave them alone.”

“True,” she says, eyes on something over Ren’s shoulder. Then, “Were you actually taking painkillers?”

Ren blanks, arguments about men in suits on power trips vanishing from the tip of his tongue. Behind her glasses, Futaba’s gaze could give Yusuke’s a run for his money. 

Ren rubs his hand up and down his thigh, scratching an itch that doesn’t exist. If anyone would understand then it would be her. If there’s one person that would get him staring at the pill bottle while remembering the needle in his arm and that one time his dad came home from the dentist completely out of it, then it would be the girl who was too scared to leave her house.

But he stays silent for too long. She takes a hint he doesn’t think to give.

“Anyway, yeah, I can get their names easy, and probably a lot more. Seen it before, through my work. Guys like that always have a history; never a one-time thing. Don’t tell Makoto I said so, but they’re the exact types of bullies that become cops.”

The bag in his lap moves and Morgana pokes his head out. Ren shoves him back in. 

“Shido is still our number one priority,” comes Morgana’s voice from the depths. “You can’t afford to get distracted.”

“I’m not,” Ren says. “But even after we get him, there’s all his subordinates to take care of. This isn’t, like, you cut off the head and the rest dies with it. Shido’s just one of many.”

“Kinda makes you wonder where it ends,” Futaba says with a wry grin.

Ren laughs once, quietly. His rib doesn’t hurt this time. “I guess it doesn’t.”

He slips a hand into his jacket. For a moment he just feels – ribs under skin with barely any muscle protecting them and it occurs to him just how easy it was for that bastard to break them, how fragile the human body is, and how little it matters when he can erase any wrong with only a thought – then he presses. Hard. Pain pierces through him right where it should be, placing him, grounding him, ripping him out of the train and leaving him nailed to the tracks.

Catharsis, he figures. Pain is a natural part of healing. It isn’t that he misses being breathless but it’s like there’s a step he missed, a reason he lost, and he needs a reason. A reason keeps him from spending the next couple weeks in bed staring at the plastic stars; a reason drags him through the Metaverse, to the gym, to work; a reason guides his hands as he makes lockpicks and smoke bombs.

If a broken rib is worse than a black eye then worse than both is nothing at all. Unmarred skin. A story untold, a vengeance extinguished.

The fractures are healing but Ren will tear back his nails trying to keep them open.

“Humans are their stories,” Yusuke had once said over a plate of curry shortly after he joined. Ren made a noise of acknowledgement and bowed his head lower. Pencil dragged, grinded against paper. “Sculptures, paintings, song… proof we existed, proof we lived, suffered, loved. No one wants their story to be forgotten. And so we turn to art.” Yusuke held his hand out. “Let me see.”

“What?” Ren crossed his arms over his drawing. “No.”

“Oh. Are you embarrassed?”

“I’m not embarrassed,” Ren said – said, not snapped, because he was calm and he even held Yusuke’s unblinking gaze to prove it. A couple seconds ticked by. Ren sighed and slid the puzzle book across the table. “Don’t tell Boss it was me doodling in his stuff.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

Ice melted in Yusuke’s water, tinging against the glass and sending beads of condensation rolling down the side. Ren groaned and unstuck his shirt from his back while the fan above spun pointlessly, attempting to circulate Leblanc’s weak air conditioning.

“I think,” Yusuke said, softly, quietly, barely audible over the TV, “that was part of what was frustrating as Madarame’s… pupil. Or whatever I was. The stories I kept trying to tell were rewritten without my consent. Blotted out, erased.”

He spoke tentatively, probing the boundaries of their strange relationship and testing just how much he still owned. Circumstance had exposed Yusuke’s entire life to a group of strangers he knew nothing about. Ren stayed quiet, sitting back against the booth as if to give him that much more space, but Yusuke only cleared his throat.

“This isn’t half bad,” he said, waving the crossword book. “Have you any interest in art?”

“Never really thought about it,” Ren said. He spun the pencil around his thumb. “I just doodle to keep my hands busy.”

Yusuke stared again, this time like he was expecting more. Ren snatched the book back.

“It’s cool that you’re so into it, though,” he added.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah. I mean it. I’ve never really had something that… I dunno. Nevermind.”

Ren tucked his lips in and bit them shut. Saying too much was never something he had to worry about; he never spoke without first considering every word. Something about Yusuke made him come undone.

It was then that Sojiro had come back from his cigarette run. Ren had gotten a lecture about how, next time he minds the store, he should stand behind the counter and actually act like an employee. What Yusuke got was more free curry.

Ren stayed with him while he ate, starting again on a clean page. Less focused this time, nothing but lines tracing the path of some thought he was chasing, one that kept slipping between his fingers every time he started getting a grip on it. Yusuke dragged his spoon along the plate, scooping up any traces of food he might have missed, and it was easy to pretend that if Ren spoke, the words might go over his head. Though there was something irritating about that. A story without an audience.

Muttering about forgetting to pick up green onions, Sojiro moved into the kitchen.

“I think,” Ren mumbled, watching him go, “that what the Thieves are doing is important.”

Yusuke looked up then, licking his lips clean. Ren turned away again the moment their eyes met. Kept watch for Sojiro.

“I mean – I used to hear about some of the shit that goes on, but… wasn’t my problem, you know? What could I do about it? Now, though… this is huge. What we’re doing is huge. We can really change things.”

“Kid.”

Ren drags his thumb over the barrel of a model .45. Iwai snatches it away.

“Hey, listen when I talk to you. You got a visitor.”

Ren sticks his head into the front of the shop. Yusuke’s standing beside the riot gear mannequin, fixing a twisted strap on its armor. Doesn’t even smile once their eyes meet. Just stands there looking for all the world like that’s where he’s supposed to be.

Ren says, “Uh.”

The calendar on the wall tells him it’s Friday. They’re not going back to the palace until tomorrow. Exams aren’t for a while so it probably isn’t a study session. A date?

Yusuke shakes his head. “I was in the area. Your shift is ending soon, yes?”

“No.”

“Go,” Iwai insists. “I’m all outta work for you anyway.”

That’s a lie. A new custom order from a regular just came in. But Ren goes to get his stuff. Yusuke holds the door for him on the way out.

A frigid wind pushes them up the street, speckling them in snow, and Ren tenses his back against it, shoulders up to his ears. A salaryman knocks into him, talking loudly on his phone. Without apologizing or looking back, he keeps going, keeps pleading with the person on the other end. Ren glares over his shoulder as if the sheer force will wring out an apology, but such is the man’s banality that he can’t even find him in the crowd.

“So what’re you doing here?” Ren asks, still glaring at nothing. A beat of silence, then he turns back around and lightens his voice. “You said you were in the area?”

Yusuke nods. “Book Town didn’t have what I was looking for, so I thought of the bookstore here and figured I would take the opportunity to see you. Our schedules haven’t quite lined up lately.”

Skin growing tender and sore against the cold, Ren pulls his hood low before shoving his hands in his pockets. It isn’t an accusation, which makes it feel like one. Not that Ren has a guilty conscience, but against Yusuke’s sincerity everything else always feels two-faced.

“Sitting in the attic is driving me insane. Iwai keeps me in the back where no one can see me, so…”

Like he’s afraid of what he’s gonna see, Ren glances right and finds Yusuke staring back, staring like he sees through him – not on a metaphorical level, but an actual physical one. Ren wonders if there’s a way to subtly induce blinking more often in someone.

“I understand,” Yusuke says. “It’s good to keep busy. But I hope you aren’t overworking yourself.”

A snowflake lands on Yusuke’s eyelashes. He doesn’t notice. A group of students standing in the middle of the road force them to part and when they reunite on the other side, the snowflake is still there. Another breeze pushes, curls around, pulls, and Ren puts a hand on top of his hood lest it fly off. Eyes full of nothing but Yusuke, he blurts out, “Let’s go to Shimokita.”

Yusuke nods. “I’d like that,” he says, taking it in stride like he takes so many things in stride and Ren’s heart starts hurting, burning nearly hot enough to melt the tension out of his aching muscles. “But – ah.”

Yusuke pats his pockets, front then back, and Ren shakes his head.

“No, I can pay. ‘Cause, I mean –  here. Look at this.”

Ren grabs his arm and steers him out of the stream of people, to the side of the street where a vending machine shelters them from the wind. As long as he has him, Ren brushes away the snowflake. It doesn’t bother him if people see this vulnerable display. He tries not to let it bother him. Between Metaverse excursions, work, school, and time to themselves, this is the most contact they’ve had in over a week.

The snowflake melts cold and wet between his thumb and Yusuke’s warm skin. He snaps his hand back.

“Here.”

From inside his bag Ren pulls out a pamphlet, black except where his novels and Morgana have creased it white. Bold letters spell out _Mnemosyne_ and detail an exhibition in her name. “It’s at a gallery in Shimokita. Chihaya gave me this a while back; one of her clients is in it. I thought you’d be interested. Then everything happened, and… it’s still on for another day, though, if you wanna go.”

Yusuke takes the pamphlet and flips through it for a moment before speaking frankly. “Chihaya thought you would be interested in an exhibition of local artists? Just how much have you told her about me?”

In his effort to keep the shock off his face, Ren stares blankly for a full few seconds before shoving his hands in his pockets and lifting his chin in defiance. It’s near impossible to tell if Yusuke’s teasing or just being himself; with him, it’s always best to stay on guard.

“Lots,” Ren says, challenges. Neither one likes losing. “I talk about you all the time.”

A tiny smile gives him his answer. Yusuke hums thoughtfully, a wordless _I see_ curling up from the deepest part of his throat, and Ren can only wonder how badly they’re influencing each other. All the more so when Yusuke reaches over to fix his hair where the wind got it caught on his glasses.

“Well, I would love to go,” Yusuke says, fingers brushing against Ren’s cheekbone.

A sigh slips out, long and slow. Every inch of tension in Ren’s back dissipates. Without his spine’s gravitational pull keeping him rigid, he leans forward until his head hits Yusuke’s shoulder and Yusuke hits the vending machine.

Taking it in stride like he takes everything in stride, Yusuke rests his hand on the back of Ren’s head. “Should we go home instead?”

Ren shakes his head no.

Yusuke slips his hand inside Ren’s hood. It comes to rest on the curve of his nape. “Alright.”

From this angle, the plane of Yusuke’s front stretches endlessly, all the way up to the concrete sky. Somewhere between Ren and the end of the world hangs Yusuke’s other hand, holding the tattered pamphlet like it’s something fragile and precious.

Ren mumbles, “Your hand’s cold,” and closes his eyes.

The hood blocks out the rest of the dying  evening light until his world becomes nothing but the scent of Yusuke’s laundry detergent and bodywash carried on the cold air. The latter he tries to place but it’s something only people who work at those skincare places know. Sandalwood, he wants to call it, but only because he knows that’s a kind of scent.

 _Akechi would know_ enters his head unbidden.

Ren takes a deep breath, slowly filling his lungs all the way up. It doesn’t hurt. His rib hasn’t bothered him in weeks.

Akechi would know what sandalwood actually smells like but Akechi’s not with them anymore – no, Akechi was never with them. It felt like he was, sometimes, but they would always catch themselves, that little silence after the laughter faded out and the illusion broke. Everything is always breaking. The world is always pressing in, pressing down.

Yusuke’s fingers idly massage the back of Ren’s head.

Voices and footsteps pass by, tangling with his thoughts, filling Ren’s head with scenes of people – maybe looking at the two of them as they pass by, or maybe wanting a can of hot coffee from the vending machine but finding it too awkward while they’re standing there. Even when he’s lost in his head, he’s never _truly_ lost. Trapped, more like. The world is always there on the other side of the bars.

Accepting the inevitable, Ren places a quick kiss against Yusuke’s neck before standing straight and pushing his glasses back up his nose. Yusuke’s hand falls away, to his side.

Instead of some sarcastic comment, what comes out of Ren’s mouth is nothing at all. He doesn’t try again and Yusuke doesn’t ask him to. Words will come later.

What waits for them on the other side of this date is that final letter of recommendation. With it, Ren will have his path to Shido. All this time spent picking up the broken pieces and he’ll finally have a use for their sharp edges.

Yusuke holds out his hand and says, “Let’s go.”

Ren takes hold. From its time in his hood, Yusuke’s hand is far warmer than the world around them.


End file.
